


Candlelight

by teenytinykookie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee Are Best Friends, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan Needs a Hug, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan-centric, Past Character Death, Soulmates, THIS IS SO SAD IM SORRY, The Little Match Girl - Freeform, from the bottom of my heart i apologize, it just felt wrong not to add it, its cute though, just really sad as well, not very obviously, the title fits too well im almost ashamed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28035882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenytinykookie/pseuds/teenytinykookie
Summary: Donghyuck and Mark.Soulmates.Inseparable.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to Miss America by Julian.  
> I recommend listening to that when you read it ;)

Donghyuck and Mark.

Soulmates.

_Inseparable_.

Sometimes if I stay silent in the middle of the night I can feel you.

I lock all of my joints and hold my breath until every part of my body is forced to slow down and be quiet as well. Even my heartbeat is too loud.  
It only happens at night, 12 am in our apartment, with the windows open and the lights off.

When the rest of the world goes silent, I can hear you.

It isn’t much more than a whisper, the tentative first note of a piano, a slight hum at a frequency my ears can no longer comprehend. A quiet laugh that I thought would never stop.  
It only happens if you’re quiet, so make sure to stay still. You have to focus. You have to be silent.

Sometimes when I go to the park I see you.

I see you running along the water. I see you stretching his small arms as far as they can go to pull yourself onto the swing. I see your tears when you have to ask for help, because at four years old your hands are too small to fully wrap around the silver-colored chains.

I see you on your 5th birthday when your lungs are too small to blow out the candles on your Mario Kart themed birthday cake. I was younger and I remember wanting a Mario Kart birthday cake as well; Of course, by the time I turned five, that desire was long forgotten.

On your birthdays I make you cakes, half coated in vanilla icing and the other covered in chocolate because we could never agree.  
The cakes don’t fall apart, not like when we used to make them. I was never good at making them, but you were worse. The cake looks a lot better when I make it by myself.

I was never afraid of trying new things, so everyone called me the brave one. I was proud of that at the time, but I know now that it was because I could never be scared of the unknown. I wasn’t scared because you had already explored it, mapping out all of the crevices so that by the time I discovered it, it was familiar.

On my first day of kindergarten, you both walked into the building with me, screaming about how being ten minutes late was a _much_ bigger deal in 1st grade, and that I wouldn’t _understand_ because being in kindergarten was so _easy_. Going through the rest of the day after you walked over to your own class, I couldn't help but disagree. It was scary to be alone.

At 12 am some nights, I build a fort in our apartment. I stack up the suede pillows and I throw thin blankets over the shelves and couches. I lay the rest of the pillows on the floor, making sure that it’s comfortable enough to sit down while we eat. I make enough food for two and I lay it all out on the cushions, making sure that all of your favorites are there. You don’t eat much, which I understand. On those nights I can’t eat very much either.

After dinner I clean up and bring out the cake. The windows are open and the lights are off, only the dull street lamps softly lighting up the room. There are two candles, one for each of us. Yours is Mario themed which I know you appreciate.

I sit down in the fort and close my eyes for a second. Listening for a whisper, a piano note, a hum.

When I hear it, I strike the match, a quick movement, and my eyes are drawn to the flame. It’s delicate, frail, and small. A light breeze, or a drop of water enough to snuff it out forever.

As I light the two candles the flames solidify and burn brighter than before.

I look up to see you smiling and I smile too, as the chilly winter breeze from the window settles around us. A faint tune begins to play, vaguely familiar but still foreign. The words on your lips try to take shape as well, but they are too scrambled from disuse to come out coherently.

As the last note rings out I raise my gaze from the flames to your face, just in time to see you make a wish. You open your mouth to inhale, and then, softly, _exhale_.

The candles don’t blow out. They never do. That’s okay though. Soon the wax will run out and the flames will die.

In those last moments, when the flame is still strong enough to hold out against the air, I look at your face, memorizing the details as best I can. A tear rolls down my cheek.

As the clock strikes midnight on August 2nd, I sob. My cries fill up the empty room until nothing else can fit. The tears blur everything around me until I fall asleep.

I don’t notice as the melody begins to play again and a silhouette on the wall begins to move. It dances across the room delicately, a dance only mimicked by the flickering of a lit match. When it moves towards me and I am none the wiser. The wind caresses my cheek, and the flames go out.

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry


End file.
